Gosh
by crowanker
Summary: A series of shorts about various questionable activities of Jake English. Not work safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Gosh**

Author's note: Well, okay! I haven't used Fanfiction dot net in like forever but I seem to recall stories looking weird without an author's notes even though I don't like using them. I think my depravity should speak for itself. Okay real quick. I have this in two chapters because shit gets well,,,, I'll warn you later. That's it for now. I hope you enjoy! Now,,,=== Go Read.

Tonight was the night, you could feel it in your bones. You were going to hit big. You could just feel it. Tonight was going to be so nice. You could tell just by looking out your window. The sun was setting slowly and the sky was a mixture of the dark blue of the coming night and the pale orange of the sunset. You decided that now was as good of time as any to head out. You pack your book bag with the various items you'll be needing for tonight and as treading softly you exit your room. Making your way down the stairs, you navigate them like a landmine. The last thing you wanted was your parents waking up and asking you where you were going with pickaxes and mini shovels at this time of night! You make your way as silently as can to your the front porch. You unlock your bike from its chains. Bring it out to the street, you were soon on your way.

You peddle briskly away from your home in the direction that led out of town. It was a little town, with one post office, one school that everyone attended if your parents couldn't afford private tutors, and an ice cream shoppe that you liked to eat at. You soon ride past all the homes, avoiding downtown as you were breaking curfew and that was a sure away to get caught. You were headed to the centre of your little island home were the jungle was thick and the loot was good. Next to no one lived there so it was perfect. You coast down the hill, passing the last bits of civilization- the town's only graveyard. You thought, for a moment, in just stopping here. Just looting this place, hock a few things at your usual joints, and going home but...this place was pretty picked dry. No, all the good stuff was deeper in. You peddle faster. If you were lucky the ice cream place would still be open when you got back.

It wasn't like you needed the money for anything important. You didn't have cancers. Your friends weren't dying. You just wanted to buy cool things but your parents didn't give you an allowance. It was so _unfair_! All of your friends got allowances. You kept peddling until the road stopped being a road and began to just be dirt and stones. You got off your bike and began to walk moving your bike with you along the way. You shortly abandon it by a large rock when the plant growth started to get thick. Further and further you walk until you came to your came to a clearing where a tomb stood. The sky was completely inky blue now and that stars sparkled over head like glitter on a second graders desk during arts and crafts.

It was a massive mausoleum, covered in thick vines and strange stone monsters that looked down from their perch, passing judgment on you with their stoney eyes. Well, fuck them. You gulp as you unsling your bag. There was a boy who claimed everything in the jungle as his. You didn't know him. You never met him. The other gravejackers whispered about him like he was Satan himself. You saw a picture of him, once. They told you he was dangerous but he didn't _look _dangerous to you. Perhaps you could get to know him as you both shared an interest in stealing things from dead people. You were on his turf, that was true, but his turf had all the best stuff. So you threw caution to the wind. You stood in front of the old vegetation covered tomb as you place your backpack down at your feet. It was so pretty, the tomb, like something out of a story book. You get down on your knees and unzip your book bag. You take out a crobar. Your crobar. You use to use a friend's but you finally made enough money to buy all your own gear. This would be the first run with them. Inhaling and exhaling, steadying yourself, you begin to tear at the vines with your weapon. Once you've gotten enough vines off the door, you make quick work of it. You pull the door open and head inside. The tomb is musty like a thousand mouldy sweaters and is covered in centuries of dust and cobwebs. Your heart beat quickens. This was good.

This meant you were the first one to hit it. It was about as big as a good sized living room and held two stone coffins hopefully full of loot. You run back through the door to grab your backpack. You'll be needing it. Taking a big breath, you start to bash the head of your crobar along the sides of the stone coffin, chipping off the lips seal here and there. You make an attempt to move the cover. You grunt in exertion. It doesn't budge.

You sigh and put your crobar back in your bag and pull out a pickax. You hit around the crease of the cover until your arms are sore. If that wouldn't do it you'd just take a sledge hammer to the thing. You give the cover a push. You struggle some with its weight just its giving like a wiggly tooth on its last string. One final push and you get it half off. That was good enough for you. You rummage in your bag some more for a thin paper mask and you put it over your face. You normally didn't bother with this but these bodies had been in here so long only god knew what ancient diseases these people had. You hit jackpot. This dead person was covered in jewelery. You lean further into this person's final resting place, trying to breath as shallowly as you can. The coffin was strangely deep. You reach down for a arm and it just about shatters in your hand. You curse softly, pulling yourself up to the coffin's mouth. You should have dressed better for this.

You make a mental note to wear thick pants neck time and not a short skirt. Balancing yourself on your knees, you reach into the coffin for the rings that fell in the bone dust of the skeleton's chest. You get them, slowly, one at a time. This was sure a work out. If anything, grave robbing would keep you thin. You pluck the necklaces off without regard of the crumbling skeleton. Picked clean, you hop off the mouth of the coffin and go back to your backpack and pull out a dark red, almost brown, sack with a yellow pull string tie. You drop the rings and necklaces in there gleefully. This was so cake. People afraid of this boy were stupid. Maybe there wasn't even a person who totted guns and claimed tombs as his own. You were planning to come up here every night from now on.

You head go over to the second coffin. You give it the same treatment you gave the previous one only this cover took longer because your arms were exhausted at this point. But it would have be a crying shame to pass up this rich opportunity. You push the lid off only even less than the one before but just far enough for you to get in there. There was only one ring on this one. How disappointing you thought as you breathed a sigh. You hoped at the least it was solid gold. You jump down, all finished, brushing death dust from your buttoned blouse and your skirt. Your knees are utterly filthy and the rest of you is covered in a light dusting of dirt. You add the ring to your sack and proudly tie it up. You are so very pleased with yourself that you muse about hitting up another tomb even though your body was tired when you hear a clicking sound. It rings out as clear as a bell in the echoy mausoleum.

You look up, looking for it source, but you already knew who it was. That kid that everyone warned you about was standing in the doorway. He leaning his upper back casually on the frame as he switched the safety of a gun on and off. Click, click, click. Each click made you jump slightly. He wasn't looking at you, he was looking into the other side of the door frame with a wide smirk on his face. You felt trapped. But you weren't going to let him know how scared you were so you calmly as you can start towards your book bag. He pushes himself off the doorway and walks towards you. You bend over to pick up your bag but decide against it. You stand up straight and look into his bright green bespectacled eyes. He's looking at you, a clear expression of amusement on his face. You pull your mask down still looking at him in the eyes with a blank face.

"Are you going to pay for that?" He spoke. Your heart jammed up in to your throat it felt like. Your fellow gravediggers told all sorts of stories about him. You are suddenly worried if any of them are true.

"I'm sorry," You say quickly, maybe too quickly, you hold your bag out in front of you. Your voice sounds earnest but you aren't actually sorry, "Here."

"I don't want them," He looks at you like you're some kindergartner who just made some adorable godawful macaroni art that you wanted him to hang on his fridge but he takes your art and store it in a drawer where it would never be seen again.

"B-but you said you wanted payment so here just take this stuff back, I don't even want it." That was a bold face lie but you'd rather be broke than full of bullet holes. He kept clicking his gun like a bored student hitting their pen against their desk. He was walking closer to you and you shallow your breathing so you don't look like a gapping trout. He gets close to you but you don't back down. You're not intimidated by some kid even though he was two heads taller than you and holding a gun. He wouldn't dare shoot you that would just be messy, right? Too much work. Grave robbers were all about convenience.

"Oh, I want payment all right, but not that stuff. You ruined it. Its no fun to have it if you don't dig it up yourself," His voice didn't sound like he was taking this serious. You weren't sure if that was a good thing or not,"You'll just have to pay me in something else."

Another step closer, less that a ruler's width apart you finally stumble back. Your eyes wide with fear as he grabs your arm, hard. You try to make a break for it but he slams you hard against the wall. You feel your nose break and you let out a cry of pain, blood trickling down your face and into your mouth open from the sudden shock of pain. He gives a throaty laugh right in your ear. He grabs you sack of loot, well more exactly he squeezed the hand that bag was in-his nails digging into your hand. You gasp in pain again and let go of the bag. The contents go to the ground. Confused as to why he dropped it you soon realize whats going on when his finger tips touch just right above your knee and wanders up your leg. You squirm but he has you pinned against the wall. The skin on his palm is rough as can be like they've never seen soap or lotion in their entire life. His hand moves up your thigh. And you scream as loud as you can even though you no very well no one will hear you.

"Hey," He said sounding playfully insulted, "I haven't even started yet! But gee, I'm flattered," You keep on struggling. A startled "No" escapes from your lips as his hand slips under your skirt all the way up. Your assailant began rubbing you through your cotton panties. Your knees buckle as his fingers move along your sensitive parts. You bite down on your lip, trying not to make a sound but tiny sounds do find their way between your clenched lips. You thought about how this wouldn't be happening if you wore pants but when he tears your panties away savagely you realize to amount of clothes would save you from his lust.

His breathes against you neck as his fingers work in and out of you. It strings and hurts and feels good all at the same time. You can no longer hold yourself back. You let out a shaky gasp that grows into many gasps as he increases speed. He's being rough, his nails nick your tender parts and you are really begging him to stop now as your whole body shakes against him. You want to move. To squirm out from under him but you can feel the cold steal of his gun through your thin blouse. He inserts a third figure and doesn't slow down. You're gasping louder and louder, gasps turning into whines. Your body feels on fire. You plead with him again to stop but you're not too sure if you want him to stop. You writhe up against the wall about to reach you climax when he just stops.

"Take off you clothes," He orders gently in your ear but you decline, "Fine," He rubs his damp sticky fingers against your blood smeared and tear covered face. You feel the gun lift up from your back. You're terrified. Holy fuck, he was going to shoot you, you dumb bitch. Was he going to shoot you? Should you run? Before you can even make a complete thought he pushes you down even more against the wall and the cold metal of a gun enters your throbbing walls. His now free hand slips under your thin blouse and travels up your body. You want to twist and turn but you can't. You cry out and unwillingly shiver as his fingers slide up to your chest. It was his fortune or more likely your misfortune that you were wearing a front clip bra today. He undid your undergarments quicker than you expected and ripped it off your bra but didn't bother taking it all the way off. He presses his torso against yours flatting your now exposed breasts into the cold and porous stone wall. He works the gun in and out of you the whole time. More and more faster and faster you can feel your body tense you let out a loud moan and it feels like you came crashing down. You can feel your wetness roll down your leg as he pulled his gun out. He again leans next to your ear.

"Oh gosh," He licks it his gun once and wipes the rest off on your blouse, "Did you like that?" You nod and whimper thinly as you try to catch your breath, "What was that?"

"Ye-es," You manage to get out wishing he'd let you be just until you could breath properly again. Leave you be until your body stopped feeling like it was both on fire and numb.

"I can't hear you," He says in a teasing, taunting tone as he rubs against your erect nipples with his rough soled fingers without any regard for your comfort. Pulling and twisting as he pushed you even harder against that damn wall. You let out a sobbing yes of pain and pleasure. He returns the gun to your back, jamming it hard in the centre. You hear him start to undo his belt and unzip his pants. Soon, much too soon, as you were still breathless and spinning, his penis was rubbing against the mouth of your womanhood. You whine as his penis head enters you. It was bigger than the gun's barrel by far and it hurt. You cry out for him to stop but he ignores you pleas. He wraps his gunless hand around you front and pulls your bottom half a bit from the wall before he rams his length completely into you. He makes a rhythm that's fast and hard grunting with each thrust into your ear.

"Say my name," He whispers harshly in your ear. You're too besides yourself with pleasure to even think let alone speak but he says it again. You make a high pitched sound of confusion and he gets your hint that you have no idea what his name is. He pounds into you silently for a moment the only sounds in the being your moaning, the jingling of his pants, and the slapping of skin. You assumed he was decided whether or not to tell you his name or remain an unnamed attacker. He suddenly runs his tongue from your shoulders all the way up your neck before speaking his name into your ear, "Now say it."

You do. Again and again as he rams into you. He gets faster as he moves you further away from the wall. Your face now leans against it barely, your hands pressed up on the wall, your boobs occasionally hitting against the wall. His grunts too are getting louder but he never lowers the gun from your back. His free hand roams about from your lower back to your hips around your stomach over your breasts. You were going to come again. You could feel your body tense up like a wind up toy being spun past its limits when he returns his wandering hand to your hip and thrusts so hard into you this time that your arm's just give way and you smash up against the wall. He releases into you and you can't even muster the energy to say no.

You were both panting, he stays in you for a while as though catching his breath there. He Phews and Whoos like he just had a good jog or played a vigorous game of cricket and not just fucked the brain's out of some girl. But whatever, you don't care. You gasp for as much air as possible, you were going to run like hell the first chance you get and never ever grave rob again. He finally moved his gun hand from your back and you decide to make a run for it but you went no where. He shots you point blank in the back of the head splattering his own face with blood and brain matter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Gosh**

**Reply to SuperYuuki**: Yesssssss. Evilbastard!Jake will forever be my headcanon too.

**Reply to hune**: Why thank you, I try! Oh, yes, um, its suppose to be the reader like you insert your self right up into that! People wanted a reader/Jake fic so I was happy to oblige.

Author's note: Thanks for reading everyone! So, seriously, if you have a issue with gore I suggest to abscond now! ===L On to chapter two.

* * *

><p>===L Be the living person.<p>

You grab your recently departed lady friend before she hits the floor. Her head rolls back on to you and return her affections with a soft smile. Gosh, that was messier than you intended and you kind of really messed up her skull in the back there. But that was okay, not every skull had to be whole. They were special in their each unique way. You drag her over to open of the open graves that she so very rudely disturbed. She could have at least asked, for Pete's sake, you wouldn't have said no though you would have had a similar confrontation with results being almost identical to this. You sit down on the lid and bring your companion over to your still hard dick. All that was nice and all but she just didn't do it for you, not yet anyway. You push your hard member through the hole you just made and let out a loud groan. Her brain was still warm with blood and whatnot. You cut yourself on a bit of her skull as you push your way further in and your sharp cry of pain echoes throughout the mausoleum but you keep pushing in until the head of your dick hits the back of her forehead. You leave it there for a moment, just enjoying the warmth of her brain matter and blood. You look down at her pretty head.

"Sorry about this, old girl, but that skin has got to go," You say to your dead bed mate as you jab your thumbs under her skin where the hole is and start to tear it way the best you can. You're going to need more tools but for now this is alright as you can start to see the alabaster of her skull and that gets your heart racing. You'll get the rest off later. You start to pull your penis back out , groaning in delight as you do so the bone scrapping against your tender organ. You graze yourself once you clear her skull, running up and down along its length coating your hand in her blood, you blood, and her brain guts. You jerk about, feeling pressure build up in you like an blocking in a gun. You push your penis back into her, less gently, less delicate, moaning louder this time. You pull back out, and then back in, out, in, out in, making a fast and steady rhythm. You can feel her brain turn to mush around your dick as you push into her. You groan loudly in exertion, face contorted in pleasure. You can feel the blood rush to your sex organ, you're about to come. You pick up speed, rhythm completely lost as you fuck her skull with wild abandon. You scream in pleasure as you come once again into her, slamming your dick in as far as it will go. You bend forward, holding her skull to you, panting. With a sigh, you uncurl yourself and pull out of your companion with a slooshing sound. You tap your dick against her opening to knock some of your semen and her gore off you and lean back just holding her skull in your hand. That was good. Really good. You give yourself a moment to just let aftermath waves of pleasure and exhaustion roll over you but the moment soon passes. You push the dame away from you, she collapses ungainly on the floor. You tsk at her clear lack of poise as you return your penis back into your boxers and zip up. You would have to do something with her body but you weren't sure what yet. You were still feeling lightheaded from your sexual actives but you walk over to the girl's backpack and zip it open.

Her equipment was kind of cheap but it would do the job. You take out her pickax and walk back over to where you dumped her body to the floor. You stand over her body, legs on either side of her, looking down at her with pickaxe in hand.

"Its such a crying shame that you had to barge in here with the intent to pilfer, you wanton lady of the night, you are quite beautiful and I'm sure will be missed by some adolescence young buck," You speak to her even though she is dead. You rub a finger on your tongue and press it on the ax tip. You bring down the ax piercing it through her throat and then crouch down on her cooling corpse, "I'll try and make this quick," You jerk the ax about, blood pouring out of her neck. You keep at it until you severe her head completely. You grab her now free skull by the roof of her open mouth and throw the bloody ax to the floor.

"Hello," You say to her as you bring her to eye level, "You gorgeous 'bute, to what do I own this pleasure?" Your warm, almost silly expression becomes cool as though she just said something terribly rude to you. In response, you push your thumb into her eye and it explodes in blood like biting into a berry blast gusher. You grin again, full teethed wolfy grin. You stick her still to be cleaned and scalped head under your arm, her holes dripping in oozy brain, blood, and your semen, the look of surprised death permanently on her face. You start to leave the tomb. Yes, you'd deal with her body later. You wanted to clean her skull before you got too sleepy as the night was getting old and you wanted to watch something before heading to bed. You had big plans tomorrow night so you wanted to be well rested, very well rested.


End file.
